Hungary's Box
by Harmony Delaceur
Summary: A dark night, blood, grief, tears like diamonds. What has Hungary been hiding from her husband for so long, and what will Austria do upon finding out? AusHung, mentions of past PrusHung WARNING: ANGST AND MENTIONS OF WOMANLY THINGS.


Nations can't have children.

It is next to impossible; it's only ever been done a few times. Many times, a nation or colony or province simple comes into being. Sure, there is often strong resemblance between a nation and an empire, for example, if the nation came into being on the land where the empire once reigned.

Greece was a miracle. He was one of the very few nations to come into existence via childbirth. His mother, Ancient Greece, had somehow managed one of the most impossible feats of their existence.

Veneciano and Romano. Romano was like Greece, an amazing product of the reproductive system. Veneciano, however, was even more special. Their mother, who had lived and died in a short span, had managed to birth two children, even though it was in giving life to Veneciano that she lost her own life. Even their mother had been the biological child of Rome, connecting Rome and his grandsons by blood, something completely unheard of.

Hungary awoke in the dark bedroom, burying her face in her pillow to muffle the sounds as agony tore through her abdomen. The pain gave no promise of relief, and she quickly rolled out of bed, her knees nearly buckling as she stumbled into the bathroom, closing the door behind her and leaning against the door. Her breath tore through her teeth in ragged pants, and tears welled in her eyes. Slowly, she gathered her courage and looked down.

Hot blood snaked down her thighs, staining her nightclothes as another wave of agony cramped her middle. She doubled over and fell to the floor, eyes squeezed closed and trying to contain her sobs. Despite herself, she thought back to the first time, that first time amidst searing heat and the suffocating stench of blood.

"_Please! Someone call for help!"_

_Austria held her tight, crouched on the floor beside her in the restaurant, and even though the pain was so bad that Hungary sincerely thought that she would faint, she could only stare in dumb shock and terror at the blood on her hands, her irrational mind believing that if she could simply scoop up the blood, it would make this all go away and her baby would be safe, safe in her womb until it was ready to come out. It was too soon. _Too soon!_ Her mind screamed at her._

_A doctor knelt beside her, speaking to her in a low voice, soothing, trying to reassure her. When she looked up, she saw the expression in his eyes, and she knew. Her baby, her beloved dream was gone. It wasn't until that moment that Hungary began to cry._

Children of nations were so much more delicate than human infants. It should be the other way around, but unfortunately, it wasn't. All it took was one little issue in the government, and a healthy foetus was stillborn or miscarried. It was a hard, hard lesson for the Hungarian woman to realize. She tried; she had tried so hard to have a baby. Whenever she managed to conceive, hope would race through her, yet she managed to keep herself in check until she could be sure that she could keep the baby. She didn't want to tell Austria until it was surefire. Every time, she ended up hiding out of sight and earshot, crumpled on the ground as her baby's life bled from her.

Austria only knew about the first one. That first miscarriage, when medicine had been so primitive. Even now, with how far medicine had progressed, she could not maintain a pregnancy. There was nothing wrong with her; tests showed she was fertile. The same went for Austria, who simply believed that they were having difficulty conceiving. Even that one night stand with Prussia, which had led to the third conception, failed. A nation's body simply was not fit for children.

She had been so hopeful this time, too. Her pregnancy had lasted five months, a full month longer than any other time. She was going to tell Austria in the morning, tell him that she was pregnant. Not now.

The pain was beginning to fade. With shaking hands, she opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a rough wood box. Inside was everything. The list of baby names, so old it was written on sheepskin with homemade ink, painstakingly preserved. Two small baby outfits, one for a boy, one for a girl, made of the finest fabric and threads from the time. Ultrasound pictures, positive pregnancy tests wrapped in plastic, papers saying that her pregnancies had ended in the way that no pregnancy ever should. It was the bow of her broken dreams.

A quiet knock at the door startled the grieving nation, and she looked up, peeking through the keyhole, sitting in a small puddle of blood. Austria was standing outside the door, rapping on it gently with his knuckles.

"Hungary?" he asked in his quiet, musical voice.

She tried to steady her voice when she responded. "I-I'm in here." She said, hearing the way her tear strained voice broke.

"Are you crying?" Austria asked gently, and she turned her back on the door, hiding her face in her arms even though she knew he could not see her.

"N-No. I'm f-fine." She said, voice barely audible. "Go back to sleep."

Instead, she heard the door handle turn, and she realized that she had forgotten to lock it. She scrambled to her feet, turning to face him as he entered, the box tumbling to the ground.

His shock was evident on his finely wrought features. Oh, how she had always hoped that their child would have his delicate features, his love of music and his haunting violet eyes.

She knew she looked awful. Her eyes burned from the tears that still flowed down her cheeks and she kept sniffling. Her hair was matted with sweat, brought on by the agonizing pain, and blood soaked her clothes and hands.

It took Austria about two seconds to realize what was going on, and he stepped forward, hesitantly at first, then rushing forward and pulling Hungary into a tight hug. She sobbed into his shoulder, her hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if the world would end if she were to let go. They stayed that way for a long time, until Hungary's heartbroken sobs faded. She simply couldn't cry the pain away, and was tired for trying.

She felt his hands on her, gentle as a breeze, and she let him undress her, dropping her stained clothes to the floor, let him guide her into the bathtub as he started the water. She felt numb, except for the emotional pain that squeezed her heart as her gentle husband, two times married, used a wet cloth to clean the blood from her skin. He helped her out, and she rested her hands on his shoulder as he patted her body dry with a towel and swathed her with a soft robe. He led her to their room, and helped her change into a clean pair of pajamas, brushed her long tresses.

Meanwhile, she felt so empty, so heartbroken. She remembered the first time she felt it, the almost painful desire to have a child of her own. It was when Austria had just won control over Veneciano and brought the tiny redhead into their home. He had been so tiny and scared, and he had clung to her, grateful for the motherly comfort that she loved to give him. The first try for their own baby was that same night. It wasn't until Veneciano had left their home, independent and grown up, that Hungary realized how deep the desire ran.

"Hungary."

It took her a moment to realize that he was speaking to her, and she looked up, her dull eyes meeting his. A familiar sadness was darkening their violet depths.

"I saw the box." He said softly, sitting beside her on the bed and putting an arm around her. "Eliza… Why did you never tell me…?"

"I-I wanted to wait until it was positive I could maintain the pregnancy…" she whispered, all of her usual spark and fight gone. "I was going to tell you in the morning. I-I was so sure!" she sobbed, breaking down anew as he held her.

"How many times…?" he asked her, and she knew he didn't want to hear the answer. But she understood that he _needed_ to hear the number, needed to know how many times she had gone through this.

"This was the fourth…" she whispered. She clung to his shirt, hiding her face in the fabric as sobs tore themselves from her chest. "I-I'm never going to have a child!"

"Shh…" Austria tried his best to comfort her; he hated it when people cried, especially when the person crying was his beloved. "Let's try. One more time, with both of us aware and both of us in this. You shouldn't have had to do this alone for so long."

Hungary looked up at him, tears still falling down her cheeks. "I-I don't think I can do this again…" she whispered. She was so tired of having to be strong.

"One more time. Together. You won't be alone this time." He promised, and she could feel his long fingered hands dancing over her hair.

She bit her lip for a long moment, then sat up and brushed away her tears. She met his eyes and ran her thumb along the line of his jaw.

"One more time?" she asked softly.

"Once more." He confirmed.

They kissed.

.~*~.

Nine months later.

Hungary leaned her head back against the pillow, her skin slick with sweat as a contraction seized her swollen stomach. She had been in labour for over ten hours now, and her strength was almost gone. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her breath coming fast. She was squeezing Austria's hand so tight, she wouldn't be surprised if she had broken something in his delicate, piano playing hand.

Her contractions were near constant, and she could hear voices, the doctor, the nurses, her beloved husband, encouraging her, cheering her on. A cool cloth dabbed at her sweaty face, and she gasped for air between pains.

Another contraction rippled through her tight muscles, and she pushed as hard as she could along with it, the room feeling too hot as the blood pooled in her face from the strain. With the end of the contraction, she fell limp against the bed, tears falling as she finally felt some relief. Without a doubt, she knew that the baby was out. At long last, her child had been born.

But the room was too quiet. There was no sound of a newborn's first wails gracing the room and, when she opened her eyes, the doctors and nurses had gathered in the corner of the room where the "just-in-case" emergency equipment was, talking in low, urgent murmurs. She couldn't see her baby, and she knew that something was very wrong.

"Roderich…" she whimpered, releasing her husband's hand. "G-Go find out what's wrong!"

Roderich, ever the dutiful husband, made his way to where the doctors were grouped, working hard. He questioned them in a low voice, none of his inquiries reaching Hungary's ears. Worried as she was, she was exhausted beyond belief and let her eyes close for a second. A gentle touch roused her.

"T-The baby isn't breathing…" Austria was dead white, and Hungary felt her labor battered body beginning to shake. _No… _This couldn't be happening!

She turned her face into Austria as best as she could, tears falling fast. "D-Did you get to s-see it…?" she asked in a choked voice.

"Yes." Austria breathed. "Our baby's a girl… She only has a little bit of hair, but it's dark like mine and curly like yours… she has your nose as well… And she's absolutely perfect, Eliza, she's beautiful."

Hungary could hear the tears that her husband was trying hard to keep at bay, and it only made her grief worse. She sobbed weakly with the last of her strength. She knew what the devastating silence from the corner of the room meant. Her baby was dead.

"I-I'm sorry…" she whispered into his shirt. "I'm so, so sorry…" She continued to whispered apologies in her hushed, strained voice, as Austria wrapped his arms around her, trying to calm her.

Then, suddenly, a feeble cry pierced the air.


End file.
